One Little Overdose
by Eve Davidson
Summary: Craig and his thoughts at the airport and on the plane.


So cocaine had come along, and I fell into it like I fell into everything else. It was this boost of confidence, this rush. I needed it. All these shows, sometimes I got so nervous. I mean, now it was just me. Before, when it was the band, it was like I wasn't alone. It wasn't just me up there.

I mean, you know, it was what I loved to do. Writing songs and playing music and being on stage. But the stakes were higher now. I was doing this for real. It wasn't just fun anymore. And I'd always been kind of nervous on stage, before shows. I know most people were. But it wasn't just at Degrassi or the little clubs around Toronto. Sometimes all those people in the audience overwhelmed me and I needed something to get me through.

I knew cocaine wasn't the best choice. I knew it wasn't the best choice to go off my meds. I'd done that before and I knew what could happen. The racing thoughts, the manic behavior. Everything becoming so intense. But it pissed me off that I had to be like this, so fucking damaged. Ashley was right.

So cocaine made it better for awhile. It gave me that confidence that I needed. It smoothed over the fact that I'd skipped so many doses of the meds that I'd lost track. So what if I was staying up later and writing more songs and staying out at clubs and just generally spiraling out of control?

Well, Joey was there to break the fall like he'd been since grade nine. Ellie called him and I didn't really protest at that point, my nose bleeding and not stopping, my heart racing. Who else was she gonna call? I'd thought, you know, that I could do this on my own now. That I was an adult and didn't need Joey anymore. Well, I was wrong. Sitting on that bench in the airport, my one way ticket to Calgary in my hand, I knew that I was wrong. I was still fucked up. I still needed saving.

Ellie was crying, leaving, not letting me patch things up with her. I knew I hurt her, but I'd been so high that I was barely aware of what I was doing. But her face, she looked so devastated. I felt so guilty. Ellie had been, you know, my really really good friend and look what I had done to her.

I got on the plane like a good boy, dreading seeing Joey on the other side. I already could see the look on his face. He'd look at me like he thought things wouldn't change. I didn't think they would, either. So this was how it was. I'd fuck things up in some way and Joey would rescue me again. It was like this constant replay of that night in the cemetery in grade nine. That was the blueprint of our relationship.

What did anyone want from me? I couldn't really do things, I couldn't function. The shows and the size of the venues had totally been stressing me out. I thought cocaine was helping. I didn't want to take those stupid psych meds. But it was like I always made the wrong choices. I'd made the wrong choices with Ashley, with Ellie, with everything. It was discouraging.

So what? What did it matter? It was one thing, just one little cocaine overdose, the doctors in the E.R. hooking me up to the heart monitor, giving me something to stop the bleeding and to lower my blood pressure and prevent cardiac arrest, which was what cocaine could cause. I knew Ellie had been in the waiting room, her worried face all scrunched up.

I looked down at the tops of the clouds from the little rectangle plane window. They looked so fluffy and solid, like you could land on them and be supported, sit there like some cartoon character. I sniffed and rubbed my nose. It hurt. I was like Stevie Nicks, burning a hole through the nasal passages, the cartilage all eaten away by that nose candy. Party favors. Fuck. I was such a screw up. Maybe Joey would finally throw up his hands and say, "sorry, kid. I tried, I really did, but you're on your own now,"

I didn't want to go to rehab. I bet it was like the psych ward, all rules and medications and people talking at you and asking you questions and how did things feel. Fuck how things felt. Feelings were what caused all the trouble in the first place.

It would be okay. Sure. It could be. Rehab and then get back to the music and deal with stage fright in a different way. I could do it. So Manny and Ellie were pretty much gone. They were anyway. I couldn't keep clinging to that old life.


End file.
